


Inkborne

by harrylee94



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, I'm still figuring things out so bear with me, ink?, inkborne au, sometimes it is anyway, the blood is ink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2018-12-01 06:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11480637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrylee94/pseuds/harrylee94
Summary: Henry, once citizen and artist of the great city of Yharnam, has spent many years travelling the world as a Hunter for reasons that few know, and even fewer speak of. But then, one day, he receives a letter from a friend from long ago, and he returns to the city he once knew, but has been twisted to something beyond his recognition.Yharnam had indeed changed in his absence.





	1. Yharnam has Changed

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Inkborne AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/306567) by the-vampire-inside-me. 



> I've been promising myself that I'd start this for a long time now, and I FINALLY got the time to do it!
> 
> For those of you who are coming over from tumblr, you might recognise some of this from [yesterday's post/my tester intro](https://harrylee94writes.tumblr.com/post/162875990519/inkborne-tester-intro), but it's a LITTLE different.
> 
> This is entirely [the-vampire-inside-me](http://the-vampire-inside-me.tumblr.com/)'s fault and their amazing [Inkborne AU](http://the-vampire-inside-me.tumblr.com/tagged/Inkborne-AU). SO AMAZING! PLEASE LOOK!!!

_Dear Henry,_

_It’s been some time hasn’t it? Amazing how 30 years just flies by. How have things been?_

_Sorry, I shouldn’t be making small talk if I have a point to get to, I remember you always hated that, so I’ll just get to it._

_Yharnam has changed in your absence, and I am finding it difficult to hold onto the past. There is something I wish to show you, and I would very much like to see you again; you are very welcome in my home. I trust you remember where it is?_

_Your friend,_

_Joey Drew_

_PS. If you come across someone calling themselves ‘Bendy’, please take care of them, they are a close friend._

* * *

It had been many years since Henry had walked the streets of Yharnam. The great city had indeed changed, a darkness seeming to have crept into the streets and flooded up from the sewers and all the unwanted and forgotten places. In his past, when he had walked these streets as a citizen, a civilian, they had been filled with wonder, and colour, and life. Now, things were quite different.

‘ _Yharnam has changed_ ’ the message read, and he had no cause not to believe those words. He had heard tell of strange things occurring within the old city’s boundaries, but never more than whispers of truth, stories growing more wild through each mouth. It was just as likely for an army of rats to have taken over the city as it was for the moon to have bled into the reservoirs and poisoned everyone. In some people’s eyes at least.

When Henry had be young, he had been an artist, full of optimism and hope. Back then he would have called such stories products of overactive imaginations and people letting their excitement get away with them. But now, with the things he had seen, the things he’d done…

He was a Hunter now, and a veteran of his trade. His fingers once calloused from holding pencils and pens were now calloused from heavy use of his axe and his pistol.

Walking through these cobbled streets, under towering arches and bridges, through broken metal fencing and past hastily built wooden structures, Henry wondered if he would even recognise this place. It felt wrong now, unsafe, and his fingers almost constantly twitched for his weapons as his nerves sparked and fought against the claustrophobic sensation of the streets, and the judgement that seemed to exude from every lit door he passed.

The city was dying, he could feel it in his bones, but its people refused to let it go without a fight, and Henry could only admire them for that. This had not been his home for many years though, and his own judgement on the city was somewhat different.

But that was neither here nor there. He was here because he had been summoned by an old friend, and while he was still tired from his journey he was confident he would be able to find his way to Joey’s home, despite the changes, and have a good long sleep through the night after what would probably be several hours of reminiscing over old times.

Surprisingly enough though, Henry had yet to see another living soul. He had _heard_ them, but they had always been several streets away. Considering he was walking what he assumed was the main road, he found this especially peculiar; surely citizens would be wanting to use the main roads for light. It was all backwards, and it brought up several questions. Perhaps Joey would be able to answer them when he finally reached him.

Eventually, the Hunter found that the road he was walking on was not in fact the main road, as he soon reached it. It was wider than the street he was currently on, mostly cobbled, though it looked like several buildings had been demolished to make it wider, and along it were several groups of men.

Henry blinked in surprise as a figure started to walk past the street he was on, and found himself staring dumbfounded at the image as the man turned towards him.

The man was holding a torch high above his head, lighting the dank streets before and around him to aid him in his search – his watch – while his other was weighed down by a great cleaver-like blade, the edges crusted and blackened by flecks of what looked like rust, and dried blood. But it wasn’t these things that shocked him the most. No, it was the black trails of something that resembled blood that ran down his yellowed face and dripped onto the cobbles below, the slick look of his hair, even as it stood wildly atop his head, that crazed look in his searching eyes.

This was wrong. This was all wrong. Where Henry had expected a look of confusion, perhaps wariness, he instead found a look of pure hatred, and a mouth full of gnashing stained teeth.

“Outsider!” the man all but screamed, drawing his blade back for a strike, but Henry had already backed away, covering his mouth with his scarf to quiet his breathing as he swept his way through the streets. Already a mob was forming, coming for him, though he knew not why, and while he tried not to lose his way, the city had changed so much that within a minute he was lost.

Now his eyes had been opened, he saw this… perversion everywhere. He saw it in the men he passed, in the dogs, in the rats. He passed what seemed to be a man but they were bleeding a black mess as another cut him – it – down, and hulking great creatures that seemed inhuman.

“What happened to this place?” Henry asked himself, pulling his axe from its place at his side as he escaped yet another mob.

Unfortunately, his path led straight into another, and this street was more of an alley than a road; he was completely boxed in with nowhere to go.

“Kill the outsider!” someone shouted, a cry that had been picked up by several others, and he spun in place, trying to find a way out.

The weight of his weapon was heavy in his hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he called out to them, but pulled his pistol from its holster all the same, nervous of all the torches and weapons pointed at him.

“He’s a Hunter!” another called, and a ripple of alarm crossed the two mobs, and, if anything, made them only more vicious.

“A Hunter!”

“It’s your fault!”

“Murderer!”

“Kill the Hunter!”

Henry winced and steeled himself. He’d never killed a human with this blade before. This blade was for monsters, beasts that killed innocents for no reason. It seemed that the beasts he would be hunting would be human tonight. That, or his hunting days were over.


	2. The Hunter's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry wakes up, even though he shouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while out today, so I hope it all makes sense!

Henry gasped, blinking rapidly at the bright light as he attempted to gain control over his breathing. He was... should be... Wasn't he...? He patted his gloved hands over his chest - where the bullets had hit - his arms - where the knives had cut - his shoulder - where the cleaver had... had...

But there was nothing. His clothes were whole, clean, and there wasn't so much as a scratch or bruise on him. It wasn't right. It wasn't natural. It wasn't  _possible_. How?  _How?!_

Closing his eyes, the Hunter forced himself to calm, to stop thinking, questioning, and simply listened. At first all he could hear was the racing beat of his heart, thumping away in his ears, but then, as that began to slow, he noticed the almost lack of sound in his surroundings; only the rustle of grass and leaves in a soft, cool breeze. It was soothing, relaxing, and by the time Henry had opened his eyes again, he was ready.

He seemed to be lying in the middle of a mud covered cobbled pathway, one that led up to a winding sloan and a grand looking chapel at the end of it. There was fire light coming from inside, shining hough the windows, but the doors were shut. Around the area there were several pathways leading is different directions with what seemed to be dozens of gravestones and iron railings lining them, interspaced with patches of grass and a tree in the near distance.

Beyond the railings though, there was nothing. A sea of mist and cloud seemed to surround this place, no matter which direction he chose to look. Rising to his feet, Henry wandered the strange island, searching for some way that he could leave - or the way that he'd arrived - but there were no more answers here than there had been anywhere else.

Unable to find anything else to do, the Hunter returned to where he had awakened, intending to walk up to the chapel-like building but found himself staring at a figure nestled off the side of the road on a somewhat raised platform. Mentally kicking himself for failing to notice it sooner, he approached the stranger, fingers twitching, ready to defend himself should the situation call for it.

The figure was dressed in dark, almost black, clothes, deceptively simple in design, though of a fine make; practical boots, comfortableeze looking trousers, a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and some sort of waistcoat with a faded red cravat tucked under a resting chin and a head of dark hair. There was something off about the way their hands looked, but it was the face that Henry became focused on.

It was one he recognised immediately, one he had seen and memorised a thousand times. It was a face he'd never thought he would see on another man, because it was his own. It was blank, and the eyes pale and lifeless, but it was his face, with his nose, and his lips, and his cheeks, though no scars and without thirty years of a harsh life well lived. This figure, whatever it was, was wrong. 

Hands. There had been something wrong with the hands. Yes, he should focus on that.

Tearing his eyes away from his - it's - face, Henry turned his attention to it's hands, and frowned, his confusion only growing. They weren't real. They were made up of pieces of wood, hinged at each knuckle,  and the same at the wrists, as though it were some sort of mannequin, or doll.

But who would want to make a doll that looked like him? One that was so well made and clearly well looked after as well. Why would they? And why would they leave it here? What exactly  _was_ here; this nonsensical, bizarre, utterly impossible place?

Stepping away from his apparent doppelganger, the Hunter started to make his way up the slope towards the chapel doors, when he heard a clatter of metal on stone behind him , and he spun on the spot , reaching for his axe. Only it wasn't at his side; it was lying at the foot of one of the gravestones.

Nope. He was done with this place. He was going to ram those doors down, smash the windows and...

The moment his fingers wrapped around the handle of his axe, a bright light blinded him , and he felt the ground fall out from beneath him. Moments passed where it felt like he was suspended in a state of both floating and falling through a strange grey mass, a murky sludge that stuffed itself into his nose, his ears, his mouth, building and building until he started to recognise the sound of distant screams, the stench of blood and shit, the taste of rain in the air, before his body felt heavy and settled against hard stone.

For the second time , Henry opened his eyes to a foreign place. Only it wasn't; not completely. He was in a dark alley, several candles flickering about him and in the centre of what he could only call a devil's circle. There was a weight in the air that felt as hough the entire history of the walls was pressing down on him, and a darkness that situated the air.

He was back. He'd returned to Yharnam.

Fingers curling once again about the axe he'd woken with, grateful for the comfort of his weapons, he slowly rose to his feet and found himself unsurprised at his unharmed and tidy state.

Whoever, or whatever, had kept him from dying, or had somehow brought him back... He wasn't sure he wanted to be in a debt with that kind of being.

This had all gotten a whole lot weirder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who wrote comments or left kudos on this story! You are all amazing and I love you so much!


	3. Hunters don't have Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise chapter! It's only been a day, but I had this running through my head while I was at work. Enjoy!

It started to rain - a light drizzle really - a few minutes after he'd awoken. It dampened the smell of excrement and rot that seemed to cling to everything, giving Henry a light reprieve from having to keep the contents of his stomach in place by force.

Yharnam had sunk low, lower than he thought it ever would in his lifetime, and he had learned it's people had mutated into unwelcoming and violent creatures towards strangers, and he'd learned this the hard way. It was a lesson he did not intend on being taught twice.

Somehow, the Hunter had managed to find the spot in which he had been killed by the townspeople, and watched the rain wash the blood - his blood - away. He still couldn't believe it had happened, either part. He had never even thought to be afraid of his old home, and now he'd been all but slaughtered like a pig in the streets, woken in some sort of strange limbo, and then again, alive and well in some Yharnam back alley, he didn't know if anywhere could ever be safe for him again. Not to mention that Doll...

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Henry looked about the street, at the bodies of the men he'd slain in his attempts to defend himself, and despite the black ooze that still dripped from some of them, he couldn't help but feel remorse for his actions. He didn't know what had caused their hatred, or what had infected them to cause them to almost sweat the strange substance, but they had been human once. And now they were dead by his hand.

The echo of approaching footsteps forced the Hunter to cut any examinations he would have made short though, and he barely had the chance to collect a few more rounds for his revolver before he had to flee, dashing down new streets and stairways before coming to a stop against a doorway, lit by a strange smelling red lantern.

Without realising it, he knocked against the wood with his elbows, and as he was busy regaining his breath there was a loud, heavy _thud_ against the door, and he scrambled away, axe held at the ready. He was greeted by the sight of a slither of someone's face, enough to see their eyes, though a small opening, and an amused, almost demented sounding cackling.

"Oh! Oh your face!" the heckler exclaimed in mirth as Henry lowered his axe slightly, though he kept an eye open for any unwelcomed visitors. "Priceless that was. Priceless."

"I'm sure it was," he replied gruffly, not exactly thrilled by the sudden interruption.

The heckler hissed a chuckle, but soon it fell quiet. and the Hunter felt eyes wandering over him. "So, stranger, what brings you to shadow my doorstep?"

Henry gritted his teeth as he looked from side to side, fully intending on answering but finding himself cut off once again before he even had a chance by that abominable laugh,

"Strangers don't last long here," the heckler warned, though a viciousness tainted their words. "Hunters even less."

Henry narrowed his eyes at the gap in the door, which only seemed to spark yet more giggles.

"You want my advice? Leave. Leave and never come back. We don't need your kind here any more."

He huffed. "Believe it or not, I was invited."

Another laugh. "Liar, Who would want one of _you_ here?"

"An old friend.""Ha! Hunters don't have friends."

Scowling at the eyes in the door one last time, Henry turned and left, ignoring the near hysterical laughter that followed after him like a bad smell, and continued his journey. He wished he could have spat the heckler's words back in his face, corrected their assumptions and rumour, but how could he when it was true? True for him at least.

At one time Henry had had many friends, first artists like himself, like Joey and Sammy, and later it had been fellow Hunters, mentors, students, brothers and sisters in arms but he had left Yharnam a long time ago, and his life as an artist along with it. Being a Hunter was a dangerous profession, and all his once friends had either perished, or gone to places Henry could not follow.

Now he was alone, or he was for now at least. Perhaps he could find a friend in Joey once again, if he could find him.

Running around in dark alleyways and streets was doing nothing to help him figure out where he was though. He needed higher ground, some place he could see the layout of the city, or at least the area he was in, considering how vast Yharnam was. The buildings around him were tall, but they were far from the tallest. There were towers and hills and some strange amalgamations of houses and lookout posts in the near distance, and a few other things besides.

The closest of all of these seemed to be a building that looked faintly familiar - a church or cathedral of some sort - though it was still a bit of a distance away, with several roads and such filled with patrolling, tainted humans and animals in between. He could just about see it through the forest of structures, and decided to head towards it to finally make a start on finding his way.

Winding though the various pathways, dodging the patrols he passed or found, Henry found himself winding around a series of gateways and courtyards, having to hide in the shadows for far too many occasions and silence a small number of tar-ridden dogs. There were some of those great beasts he had seen before, but they were slow and he out-ran them with ease. Then he came to the bridge.

It was fairly wide3 - wide enough to allow a carriage a comfortable passage -  and quite long, with stone balustrades and statues , Below it was a number of the streets he had passed through earlier, and at the other end was a great keep. Beyond that lay the church.

But before that, before the keep, stood in the middle of the bridge, was a creature so saturated in the black sickness that it seemed to hang from it in both thick and thin threads; Henry would have mistaken the tendrils for hair had they not been dripping onto the floor. He wasn't sure what kind of being this thing might have once been, but it had a look of death about it, with long, thin arms, legs and body, and an animalistic maw and horns.

It hadn't noticed the Hunter arrive, caught mesmerised by the moon, but it was quick to hear him when he accidentally knocked a stone with his boot, and when it turned to face him, it's eyes flashed red before hit let loose a terrifying cry, and charged.


	4. The Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First encounter with an Ink Beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent several days writing bits and pieces of this. I hope it makes sense!

Of all the times for an act of clumsiness to strike, this truly had to be the worst. With those dark, feral eyes on him, Henry kept himself as still as possible, trying not to further provoke any sudden movements.

The creature, now completely focused on the Hunter took several long gurgling breaths, and scratched at the ground with it’s deadly black claws. It sniffed at the air, then took a few steps backwards, only to warble it’s cry once again and step forwards, bearing it’s fangs at him.

Tensing as the creature’s lowered itself in preparation to launch itself towards him, Henry twisted at the handle of his axe, at the suede grip, and bent his knees. With an almighty roar, the beast threw itself at him, claws extended, mouth gaping and inky threads spreading about t like a shadow, making it look larger than it was.

The Hunter didn’t even hesitate as he jumped to the side, snapping his weapon’s handle out and doubling it’s reach as he swung it about him. As his shoulder hit the stone of the barrier, he became aware of two things; the beast’s agonised screams, and a sharp pain in his lower right leg. He’d managed to hit it, but the creature had returned the blow, his lower leg bleeding from three deep gashes in the flesh.

Knowing every moment could count, Henry heaved himself up to his feet again, leaning most of his weight on his right side, ready to move in an instant. The creature, meanwhile, whined as it clutched at it’s side, dark blood dripping through it’s claws. It gasped a deep inhale, then raised it’s head to the night sky and howled.

And it was answered. Dozens of voices rose up in reply from across the city, some mournful, some angered, some fearful, but most terrifyingly of all, some were close. A matter of streets away in fact.

Determined not to fall into a blind panic – that was how mistakes were made – the Hunter charged at the beast, knowing there was no chance for him to outrun it with his injury, and brought his axe back for a second swing. He needed to finish this soon; he wouldn’t be able to handle two of them at once.

Just as the creature began to turn back towards him, the great blade caught it in the shoulder, it’s arm suddenly swinging limply at it’s side as the blow sent it spinning down the bridge. However, it barely even acknowledged the hit, and swung back, charging at him with a cry of outrage, going so far as to use it’s broken arm as a weapon, twisting it’s body to bring it around in a wide arc.

Rolling under it, Henry swung at the beast’s back, forcing it to stumble. Had this been any other foe he’d face, a hit like that would have killed, or at least crippled, but the creature caught him by surprise, and he was sent flying into the side of an abandoned carriage, fresh claw marks torn through his chest and a mouth full of blood. Legs left weak, he collapsed to his knees in the wooden wreckage, his axe sliding back to it’s usual state – not that he would have been able to wield it anyway – as his head lolled in his daze.

The Hunter could barely see, his sight impaired from the impact, but he could hear it approaching, it's arm dragging along beside it, it's 'hair' dripping on the cobbled street, it's breathing ragged and gurgling in it's throat. He blinked rapidly, desperate to keep it from killing him as his fingers sought his gun.

Between one blink and the next, the great blur began to settle into a more discernable shape, his depth perception returning with enough force for him to realise that the creature was much closer than he had expected, and it was already drawing a clawed hand back for a swing. Without thinking, Henry brought his pistol high and fired.

The shot itself did little damage, barely even drawing blood, but the force of the impact caused the beast to stumble, and Henry was not going to let such an opportunity pass him by. With one last stroke, using the last od his reserves, the Hunter struck his prey's head from it's shoulders, silencing it's groans and cries once and for all.

With a wet slap, the skull landed, shortly followed by the rest of it's body. Henry wavered on his knees, the adrenalin that had been keeping him up draining away, like the blood from between his ribs. Dropping his gun, he pressed his hand to the wound, groaning in pain before coughing up yet more blood. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, and a growing certainty was blossoming inside him; he was going to die. Again. Would he die before the approaching beast arrived? Would he awaken in that misty purgatory, or never again? He did not know.

Before he could think of more questions though, a strange hissing sound drew his attention back to the body before him. He blinked and shook his head, a mistake in his current condition, but the sight before him was so impossible that he'd been sure his eyes were deceiving him. However, when his vision cleared once again, the scene had barely changes.

The beast's remains were melting, flesh and bone boiling and dripping onto the stone, leaving behind... a devil circle, surrounded by candles.

Clearly logic and the laws of nature had decided that Yharnam wasn't worth governing any more and had fled along with every other thing that was capable of thinking straight.

Logical or not though, it was possible that this was an escape - a way out before the other creatures came - even if it would be back to That Place, if that was even what this thing did. He'd only ever woken up in one of these things after touching that gravestone after all.

But he had nothing left to lose.

Just about managing to shuffle forwards a step, Henry forced himself to topple forwards far enough so that his upper body was firmly inside the circle, reaching out towards -

\- a hand made of wood.

"Hello, good Hunter," came an eerily familiar voice from above as those cold fingers wrapped around his. "Come, let me help you."


	5. Gehrman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry meets Gehrman for the first time; he's not exactly what he expected of the First Hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little time to figure out... Enjoy!

Henry found himself being pulled to his feet by unnaturally strong - and impossibly mobile - arms, hinged fingers curled about his own and the opposite arm as he swayed briefly before the dizziness ended. He blinked, looking down at himself, only mildly shocked this time at the lack of tears and wounds, along with the clean state of his clothes.

"What...?" he breathed, pressing his hand over the spots where once were wounds that were sure to kill him, before looking up into painted eyes. "What is this place?"

The face - his face - stared blankly back, pulling those cold wooden fingers back to fold them under it's - his? - elbows, and leaning slightly more on his back leg. It was how Henry had once stood, many years ago, before all the training and Hunts had beaten it out of him. Who had made this thing?

"This is a dream," it said, voice softer than Henry's, but easily recognisable as the same. "I am a doll, and I am here to look after you. Honorable hunter, you will hunt beasts, and pursue the echoes of ink, and blood, and I will be here to channel them into your strength, to embolden your sickly spirit."

It didn't have the same nuances Henry did at least. "... What does that even mean?"

The self-proclaimed 'Doll' tilted it's head and regarded him for a few moments before frowning, the blank look morphing into one of curiosity and confusion. "Good Hunter, I feel as though our paths have crossed before this time," it said, eyes falling briefly to the scarf that was still pulled up around Henry's mouth and nose. "Have you, perhaps, visited the dream in times past?"

Returning the Doll's look with a steady one of his own, the Hunter pulled the scarf down.

Other than a slight widening of it's eyes, the Doll showed no outward sign that the revelation had made any impact whatsoever. "So you are the image my Creator crafted me in. I have often wondered..."

One of Henry's eyebrows rose. "And who is this 'Creator' exactly?"

Another blank look. "He is the Creator."

The Hunter waited, expecting more, but when the silence only dragged out, he huffed and looked around. Nothing had changed since the last time he'd been in this... dream. It was still an island in a sea of mist, with gravestones everywhere and cast iron fencing keeping him from leaving. The chapel still shone from an internal light, and it's doors were... open. Why had they not been before? And why were they now?

Glancing at the Doll, Henry tried to find any sign that he was forbidden from proceeding, but it just continued to stare blankly back in patient expectation. Taking that as a strange sort of permission, he walked past it up the slope towards the door, keeping his eyes on the Doll for several moments until he realised it was only staring forwards.

The room beyond the doors was lit by candlelight and a well stocked fire, walls covered in shelves full of jars, boxes, books and other such items, and what looked like a set of drawers. There was a table which looked to have been used as a workshop, and sat opposite the fire, in a wheelchair and his legs covered in a blanket, was a frail looking man, draped in worn, practical clothing. As he approached, Henry had the urge to cover his face again, and so he drew his scarf up over his nose, not one to ignore an instinct.

It was only when he was less than a few feet away that the man looked up at him with a tired, yet somehow unsettling, smile. "Ah-hah, you must be the new hunter," he said, leaning forwards a little as he looked Henry up and down. "Welcome to the Hunter's Dream. This will be your home, for now."

Henry held back the need to squirm under the man's eye, or at the feeling he was not truly welcome.

"I am..." The man faltered, mouth open as his face grew blank for a moment before it cleared into that odd smile again. "Gehrman, friend to you Hunters."

Henry blinked. Why did he find that hard to... wait, did he just say 'Gehrman'? He knew that name - _every_ Hunter knew that name - but it couldn't be. He would have died centuries ago! But then, since arriving in Yharnam, stranger things had happened.

"You're sure to be in a fine haze about now, but don't think too hard about all of this," the man - Gehrman - continued, not the slightest bit concerned by Henry's mental stalling. "Just go out and kill a few beasts. It's for your own good." And it seemed he'd decided to dictate Henry's life too. "You know, it's just what hunters do! You'll get used to it."

"Right," the Hunter drawled, which only made Gehrman's eyes sparkle dangerously.

"This was once a safe haven for hunters. A workshop where hunters used blood to enhance their weapons and flesh." The man gave him a surprisingly serious look. "I would suggest you not use the blood vials you find in this city. They have been... tainted."

Henry frowned, recalling the way the citizens had looked, with that strange substance dripping from them, changing them in unnatural ways. "Tainted how?"

Gehrman grunted and looked out the door beside him. "There has been a sickness that has plagued this city for centuries, but now it has been distilled into a poison of ink and devilry. It has even taken..." He stopped, then turned to look back at Henry with a smirk. "But that is why you are here. We don't have as many tools as we once did, but... You're welcome to use whatever you find." He leaned forwards, his expression lecherous as he lowered his voice. "Even the doll, should it please you."

Henry instantly recoiled in disgust, and all but ran from the building, the man's quiet laughter following after him. He'd ... with the Doll that looked like... Oh God. He held back the sudden urge to regurgitate the contents of his stomach behind the nearest gravestone, but only just.

"Did you speak with Gehrman?"

Spinning around, Henry found the Doll had moved to stand behind him, still standing in that slouched pose he had once favoured. "You could say that."

The Doll gave him an emotionless smile. "He was a hunter long, long ago, but now serves only to advise them. He is obscure, unseen in the dreaming world. Still, he stays here, in this dream... such is his purpose."

Henry could only stare at his copy in confusion after those words before forcing himself to turn away. He didn't think he'd be ab;e to look at it without thinking about... that. "How?"

"... Pardon?"

"How is that the First Hunter?" he demanded, leaning against the tone he'd fled to as he looked back up at the workshop. "He was meant to be honourable, and wise, and..." dead.

"The Hunters must have an advisor."

Henry scowled, turning back to the graveyard. "That doesn't make any sense. _None_ of this makes any bloody sense!"

The Doll remained silent, much to his frustration. No matter how many questions he asked, it seemed he was going to be left to discover what had happened on his own. He sighed.

"What's this about 'enhancing' then?"


	6. The Ink Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry runs into another mob while trying to find a new route to the church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! I hope you all enjoy :)

The bridge was a little more cluttered than how Henry had left it, the carriage that had borne the brunt of his impact now shattered into innumerable pieces and spread across the ground like kindling. One of the statues that had stood guard in one of the alcoves was also missing a wing and an arm, and from the lack of rubble nearby, it was likely that its crumbled remains littered the streets below. Clearly one of the beasts he had heard had arrived some time during his absence and grown angry at the death of it's companion. He was glad he'd been nowhere near at the time.

He felt odd, to say the least, now that he'd taken up the Doll's offer to enhance his flesh, though he disliked the way in which Gehrman had given him permission to do so. Eve thinking such things was sickening. He was glad he had followed his instincts and kept his identity hidden. He didn't want to know what the First Hunter would have done had he known his face.

Lingering would not be an advisable plan of action though, as he knew that the bridge would not remain abandoned for long, and so, hefting his somehow lighter axe in hand, the Hunter made his way over to the keep. The portcullis was lowered, yes, but perhaps there would be a door.

There was, but unfortunately both it and the portcullis remained firmly locked and refused to budge, leaving the courtyard beyond, and the church, out of his reach, even after hacking fruitlessly away at the wood. He would have to find another way around, meaning his battle had been both life threatening  _and_ pointless, despite the discovery of the 'reason' behind the Hunters' Dream.

Reigning in his frustration, Henry turned back down the bridge, intending on finding a new route from the streets below, but before he could reach the end he found a pathway that led into a multi-stories building, one with boarded up windows and creaking walls. He must not have seen it before, and the splintered remains of wooden crates around the area gave him an idea of how, but now the option was open to him, he found his curiosity pulling him towards the open door.

Hefting his axe with the knowledge of where his curiosity had recently led him, the Hunter made his way down the steps and stood, ready in the doorway. The interior was dark, almost pitch black, in contrast to the bright glow of the moon, and it took several moments for his eyes to adjust, straining to listen for any sounds of approaching hostiles. While he didn't hear anything nearby, he did hear what sounded like a mob on the floor below.

With his past experiences of mobs, Henry was sorely tempted to turn and leave, but a crashing noise and what sounded like a cry of pain spurred him towards the rickety staircase. Luckily, it seemed the racket the mob was making hid the quiet creaking of his footsteps, and his path was left undetected and undisturbed, giving him the time to ready himself - namely draw his pistol from it's holster. Lowering himself to a crouch, the Hunter peeked through the struts of the banister to try and assess the situation without drawing attention to himself.

From what he could see there were a little over half a dozen citizens - in various states of 'infection' - all crowded around one particular boarded up window. They were all looking down, clearly at whatever poor soul they'd corner - most likely it was quite small, or they had forced it to the floor (or both) - next to a desk that had been recently broken, so whoever it was had tried to get away before they had been cornered. If he didn't help, it was unlikely they'd be able to.

"Kill 'im!" one of the men was shouting. "Jus' 'it 'im!"

Another man, one closer to the front of the group, took a swing with what looked like a club, the weapon arcing down towards the floor even as Henry took aim, only for it to land on something much more solid than a body. "Stop movin' ya-!"

The man fell silent as a bullet tore it's way through his brain, and he collapsed in a boneless heap to the floor.

"Wha'-?!"

A second shot rang out, and a second body fell.

The mob scattered, some still searching for their ambusher, but most were already heading towards the stairs. Henry managed to get off one more shot, slowing one of them but unfortunately missing the kill by a few inches, before he was forced to rely on his axe, but with the narrow space of the stairwell he was able to funnel them to a much more manageable number.

"It's a Hunter!"

"Bloody bastard!"

"Kill 'im!"

"Shoot 'im!"

One of the men levelled a rifle he'd failed to spot at him just as he was engaging with the first of the melee attackers, and he was unable to dodge the bullet. He hissed as it lodged itself in his side, but as he dispatched his foe, he noticed a dark blur leap up from beside the window and crash into the gunman with what sounded like a growl. The man cried out in fear and pain, and some of the mob turned back to help their companion, but it also gave Henry the chance to fell the other distracted men.

"Don' let 'em escape!"

"Shoot! Someone get-! No!  _No!_ "

The blur attacked another of the men, leaving the first dead in it's wake, throat ripped out and pumping sickly, blackened blood onto the floor. Had he not already committed himself to this task, Henry would have been questioning whether saving this creature was a good idea, but it was too little too late now.

One of the last of the mob managed to get a lucky hit, his blade grazing Henry'd arm, but against a trained Hunter. the men were no true match, and soon the building was filled with nothing but blood and corpses. The blur had retreated back to the window, the light of the moon finally revealing the form of what Henry had saved,

It was tall, taller than Henry certainly, and humanoid in shape, but it's skin, all save for it's face, was black, it's feet resembling cloven hooves, and it's fingers claws. In place of hair was what looked like a deformation of the skull, curving back to make pointed horns while a dark substance dribbled over it's completely black eyes. it's teeth were sharpened canines, and a long, arrow tipped tail was poised over t's shoulder as it watched him.The fact that it hadn't attacked him boded well for the creature's intelligence, but even after saving it, Henry doubted it had much cause to trust a Hunter, though he had no wish to fight another beast in so short a span of time.

"It's... it's alright," he said softly, lowering his gun into it's holster, the creature carefully following the movement. "I'm not here to hurt you."

The creature seemed to scoff, but it tensed, ready to pounce, as the Hunter shifted his blood stained axe, only to blink in surprise as he deposited it on the ground.

"See," Henry said, internally questioning his sanity as he raised his hands to show he was unarmed.

The creature looked between his hands and the axe warily, but didn't relax, only backing up further as Henry stepped closer, a flash of panic entering it's eyes.

"I won't hurt you," Henry repeated, trying to make his voice as soft as possible. It did little to alleviate the situation though, as the creature shifted even further away and eyed the door behind him. Slowly moving his hand, the Hunter pulled his scarf from over his nose, ignoring the suddenly powerful stench of the building, and gave it a -hopefully - comforting smile.

It blinked at him, surprised either by the action or by the kindness and it sniffed the air, leaning closer before returning to it's crouch, no longer visibly on the defence, though still wary.

" _You... don't smell like Them,_ " it said, voice low and gravelly, hinting at masculinity.

"I'm not. One of them," the Hunter replied with a solemn nod, about to take another step forwards when the wound in his side decided to make itself known, and he clutched at it without thinking, startling the creature further back against the window. "Sorry."

The creature growled at him for a few moments, but then sniffed the air and approached again. " _You're bleeding._ "

Henry chuckled humourlessly. "Yeah. Lucky shot."

It sniffed again, then settled back and... he would have to use the word 'shifted' if he had to describe it, as no other would have suited, not exactly. It's entire form seemed to almost shrink, or melt, or something, and it's menacing figure morphed into a small, almost child-like incarnation, everything (save it's tail) dulling down into things that didn't immediately resemble weapons, and it's face cleared so he could distinguish it's features more.

"Uh... okay," he muttered, confounded but what he'd just witnessed.

The creature snorted and stepped cautiously closer, gaze flickering to Henry's gun occasionally before he stopped beside him and, pulling Henry's blooded fingers away, examined the wound with sharp eyes. " _Do you have any blood vials?_ "

Henry shook his head, watching the creature with care. It's voice was of a slightly higher pitch now, and smoother, as though he'd dematured.

It hummed in what sounded like disappointment, " _The others probably have-_ "

"No."

The creature blinked up at him, almost moving away again at the sudden strictness in his voice, but smirked instead. " _Alright old man, no blood vials._ "

"Henry," he replied, covering the wound again. "My name's Henry."

" _Henry?_ " it repeated, looking him over with a growing grin. " _Well, Hunter Henry, folks round here call me the Ink Demon, but I prefer Bendy._ "

The Hunter blinked. "Bendy?"

" _Yep,_ " the 'Ink Demon' replied, his tail waving mischievously in the air behind him. " _Now let's get that bullet outta ya before ya bleed to death._ "


	7. Blood and Bandages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little getting to know one another by torchlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long, but I've had a busy week...

" _He got ya good,didn't he._ "

Henry huffed in agreement, shucking his coat from his shoulders, the leather garment falling to the ground beside the chair he'd found. There was a light staining around the cut in his shirt's forearm, but the heavier wound in his side was saturating not only the thick, pale wool, but also the waistcoat above as well. "I need more light," he said, picking at his buttons one by one.

" _Ya know, if ya used one of them blood vials_ -" Bendy started, but stopped with a chuckle when Henry glared at him, then started looking around for something to light. " _Yer a stubborn old man ain't ya?_ "

"I'm not letting that infected shit near me if I can help it," the Hunter muttered, slipping his waistcoat off before carefully pulling at his shirt, raising it over his head with a light hiss as the stretch of his muscles disturbed the wounds.

There was a spark from the corner of the room, and then another, before a torch caught alight, finally revealing just how badly the gunshot was, especially as the little Ink Demon returned. Luckily, the bullet had lodged itself at an angle - between two of his ribs - and while there was a fair amount of blood, there was little in the way of damage. The cut on his arm would need only the barest of attention in comparison too, which almost gave him reason to celebrate.

" _Jeeze._ "

Henry looked up at the breathy exclamation only to find Bendy's wide eyes flickering over his bared skin. He'd earned his fair share of scars over the years, the majority from his various battles with beasts, but some were from some unwelcome bar brawls, and lessons from teachers that he hadn't learned fast enough.It was unlikely that his more recent wounds would scar, especially considering the unexplainable weirdness he'd been pulled into, but if they did, they would only become lost in the history already marked there.

" _How are ya even alive?_ "

He blinked, then smirked, returning his attention to the bullet lodged in his side. "Grit and determination," he replied before stuffing a wad of his shirt between his teeth and taking several steadying breaths through his nose. What he would give for some whiskey about now... Oh well, a quick wipe of his hands would have to be enough for now. Hesitating only a moment more, he dug his fingers into the wound, biting hard on the shit to keep himself from screaming.

It didn't work too well, but at least it was muffled.

Bendy watched in growing horror as he slowly, painfully, dug the bullet out, his fingers a dark red by the time the sliver of silver emerged. " _... Jeeze,_ " he repeated as Henry pressed a wad of bandages to the wound. " _Ya sure ya son't wanna use one of them blood vials? It'd... It's hurt a lot less. Make it all better._ "

Henry just shook his head and started ti secure the bandages in place, spitting his shirt out.

The Ink Demon frowned at him. " _Yer crazy. A crazy old man._ "

Chuckling, the Hunter nodded. "Probable," he agreed. "I didn't kill you after all."

For a brief moment, he thought he'd make the joke a little too early, pushed it too far, as Bendy's eyes widened, a hint of fear flashing in them, but then the small creature smirked, crossing his arms while still juggling the torch. " _Must be goin' senile._ "

"... You little punk," Henry muttered, glaring almost playfully at him as he finished with the binding and moved onto the cut in his arm; a much simpler prospect. "What about you? Am I too much of a challenge for you, eh?"

Bendy stuck a forked tongue out at him. " _I don't eat old men. Too stringy._ "

Henry smirked a little nervously at him, unsure if it was entirely a joke, but decided not to think on it. Thinking too much about anything here would no doubt lead to a one way ticket to a loony bin, and whatever answers he were to get just weren't worth that price. Silence fell as he saw to the cut, and Henry thought that Bendy had decided that talking would be pointless, but then the Ink Demon shuffled nervously on his feet.

" _... Henry?_ "

"Yes Bendy?" the Hunter responded, pulling his rumpled shirt back on." _Why... Why didn't ya kill me?_ "

There was a slight tremor in his voice, enough of one to make Henry look at the creature properly. Bendy seemed to be shaking, despite the bravado he was presenting. The sight truly shocked him - he had never seen any fear in any of the creatures he had hunted before - but he quickly looked away to gather his words.

"I... At first it was because I thought you were a child, or a woman," he explained, smirking lightly at the face the demon made. "Obviously I realised that wasn't the case fairly quickly, but by then I was already being attacked, so I just decided to follow through." He gave Bendy a considering look, taking note of how he looked ready to bolt at any second. "And then you told me your name."

Bendy frowned. " _My name?_ "

Henry nodded. "In the inner pocket of my coat, there's a letter," he said, slowly reaching out for the torch. "Can you read?"

" _Some,_ " the Ink Demon replied allowing the Hunter to take the burning torch before carefully searching through Henry's coat, though he was immensely confused by the whole thing. When he retrieved it, the Hunter nodded his permission for him to read it.

It was odd, watching the emotions cross over the creatures face, being so used to having to look out for tiny twitches and winces and facial expressions to decipher what a person was thinking. Bendy, however, wore his expressions on his face, much as some would wear their hearts on their sleeves. He went from confusion, to curiosity, to shock, eyes growing wide as he looked between Henry and the letter, and then back again.

" _Ya... Ya know - knew - Joey?_ " he asked quietly.

Henry nodded. "I used to be an artist, before I left Yharnam, a very long time ago," he explained. "We worked together. I suppose you could say we were friends."

Bendy continued to stare at him for several seconds - long enough for Henry to start worrying that he'd somehow broken the little Ink Demon - before he grinned widely. " _Well, why didn't ya say so in the first place? I can take ya to 'im!_ "

"... Yeah?"

" _Yeah! We'll go there right now!_ " Bendy headed towards the door, then back again, picking up Henry's coat and holding it up. " _C'mon!_ "

Grinning, the Hunter pulled his waistcoat on and heaved himself stiffly to his feet. Excitable little thing, wasn't he.


	8. The Sewer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This detour is not sanitary.

Bendy waited for barely more than a minute, just enough time for Henry to pull his coat on and gather his axe and pistol, but not much more, and he was left behind as soon as they'd exited the building. Well, almost. He ran ahead, leaving Henry to scramble along behind him, hand plastered to his side and gun at the ready. It wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting when the creature said he'd lead the way, but at least he wasn't leaving the Hunter to wander aimlessly, lost, in his unfamiliar home.

" _Come on old man!_ " Bendy called to him, though it took him a few moments to find the creature. It seemed the small thing had snuck past some of the clutter and was stood on a wooden platform several feet below in what appeared to be some sort of man-made pit. " _I didn't think ye'd be this slow!_ "

Henry rolled his eyes, shimmying his way past the boxes and... coffins. "I've just been shot; what did you expect?"

" _Fer ya t' use one of them blood vials fer one,_ " Bendy replied as the Hunter jumped down to join him, " _but yer a stubborn fool._ "

"Smart, you mean." Henry leaned against a wall for a moment, knowing his chances of rest would soon become few and far between. "Where are we going?"

" _Ya sure ask a lotta questions._ "

"Bendy!"

The Ink Demon snickered at him, then jumped down another level, leaving Henry behind yet again. Grumbling under his breath, the Hunter followed, only to almost gag at the stench that hit him as he landed. "The sewers?"

Bendy shrugged. " _Ya wanted t' get t' Joey, right?_ " he asked, continuing on without waiting for a reply. " _Well this is the way we go._ "

"Right." He was not convinced, and if that grin was anything to go by, this was just one of the undoubtedly innumerable jokes and pranks yet to come. Wonderful.

There was another platform, hidden just below the one they were stood on, but he only noticed that _after_ looking at the cavernous area before them, the near hundred foot tall space between the arched ceiling and the very bottom of the wet, rot-infested sewer "and he took particular note of the exceedingly large size of the rodents, along with the way their black fur shimmered in the light of the moon and several lit torches). And then there were the lanky beasts, wielding spears and claws and fire as they marched and dripped up and down the pathways lining the walls, blocking the ladders down into the pit of shit and decomposing things; things that even the rats wouldn't eat."I'm starting to regret coming home," Henry muttered, though clearly not quiet enough to keep from being overheard by far too perky Ink Demons.

" _Only startin'?_ " Bendy asked with a chuckle. " _Yer more stubborn than I though!_ "

Henry grumbled about impudent creatures, which only made Bendy laugh more, and quickly followed him down, first to the last platform, and then onto the walkway.

Sneaking was much more difficult endeavour while injured, though most things were beyond bleeding and anything that didn't involve moving. Much to his own frustration, the Hunter almost alerted the lanky beasts to their presence on three separate occasions before they reached the ladder, while Bendy kept his own count down to once. Miraculously, they managed to get past the lumbering guards with nothing more than a single close call and frayed nerves, and they made it down into the slop below with only a slight wince from Henry.

It seemed as though their luck had taken a turn for the worse when they set a foot in it though. The inky rats swarmed, squeaking and screaming at them, trying to bite and gnaw as Henry hacked and Bendy slashed their way through them, adding to the carnage that already surrounded them. The pair quickly fled along the route the Ink Demon indicated when one of the lanky creatures made a screeching roar and pointed down at them, only for them to run into another. It was only a moment of quick thinking on Henry's part that they managed to get it to fall back, down into the next level of sewage, bypassing several platforms and landed in what looked like a puddle of oil... until humanoid shapes all but bubbled out of it, clawing and pulling at the creature until it was sucked down into the congealing mass, it's struggled visible for almost a full minute before the puddle once again grew still.

"That's not normal," Henry muttered, even as he lowered himself down the platforms. What happened to werewolves and witches? You know, normal unnatural things.

They took great care sliding their way around the puddle, avoiding it as much as possible, even going so far as to hug the grime covered walls in some places in order to keep out of the pitch's depths. It was probably Henry's focus on other such potentially dangerous 'puddles' and obstacles on the ground that he failed to notice the dripping crows, lying in wait on the rafters above, and he was knocked to the ground when the first pounced.

It tried to snap at his face, beak not an inch from his nose even when the Hunter held it above him with arms extended, and he would have thrown it from him had the second (and thankfully last) not managed to land on top of the first. The slick of the oil that dripped from their feathers saturated his shirt, replacing the deep red stainds with sickened black.

However, before the second made the decision to attack the man beneath it, Bendy had charged, throwing them both from his chest. Sharp claws tore at one while Henry took the chance to attack the second with his blade, and they soon fell as empty, still, feathered bodies moments later.

" _Run!_ "

Henry coughed, heaving himself up to his feet just in time to hear something crossed between a squeal and a roar echo through the sewer, and he felt the ground tremble beneath him.

" ** _Run!_** "

A tug at his hand, and he was moving, springing down rotten and creaking stairs towards a tunnel and--

That squeal roared from out of the darkness before him, and he could see a lumbering shape drawing close and closer. It was only Bendy's hard tug that pulled him to the ladder, with just barely enough time to ascend high enough to avoid the gargantuan swine as it charged out into the dim light.

"... Are you trying to get me killed?"

The Ink Demon laughed. " _Took the words right outta my mouth,"_ he said, giving Henry a dangerous grin. " _Welcome home, old man._ "


	9. Clothes are no Laughing Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not the best idea to upset the Ink Demon you're supposed to be protecting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I didn't mean for this to take so long... Here it is all the same though! I hope you enjoy.

" _I ain't wearing' it._ "

"Oh come on."

" _No._ "

"It's the only thing I could find that would fit you."

" _Ain't that a shame._ "

You'd rather go naked?"

" _Worked so far._ "

"Yes, but now you're covered in shit."

" _So are you!_ "

"No, my  _clothes_ are covered in shit."

Bendy glared up at him and the doll's clothes he was holding with a look of disgust. They'd found another building to take refuge in - one with working pipes and clean(fish) water - and as they'd been exploring, Henry had discovered the large doll. The clothes were probably best described as a school-boy uniform, and were miraculously clean, but of course the Ink Demon found them degrading.

"Just... have a think about it while you wash," the Hunter sighed, setting the clothes on the table.

" _Ya ain't my father,_ " Bendy grumbled and headed over to the sink, jumping into the basin with an an agility that hinted at his capabilities, and other form.

Rolling his eyes, Henry waited for him to finish, all the while, wondering if the creature really  _did_ have a father. He wondered who, or rather, what, they could be, if Bendy liked them, if they were still alive, what they would think if they knew their son was wandering the streets of perhaps the most dangerous city in the world...

" _Sink's free._ "

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Henry instead focused on cleaning himself, allowing Bendy some privacy (even if he didn't feel any shame in wandering about completely nude) as he washed his hands, clothes (much as they were a lost cause) and face. He checked on his wounds while he had the chance, cleaning and rebinding them, before finally turning back to his companion... only to force a laugh from popping out of his mouth.

" _Oh shut it._ "

The Hunter hummed, nodding mechanically as he tried desperately to commit the image before him to memory. Bendy was scowling at him - not exactly unusual - with a clean white shirt pulled over his chest and a bright red ribbon bow around his neck. Over his legs, brown long-shorts, with dark - probably black - vertical stripes. It looked both endearing and ridiculous on him.

"Um, it suits you, " Henry tried, but his voice cracked half way through, betraying his mirth in spectacular fashion.

The Ink Demon growled at him and strode away, the bow bouncing a little under his chin with each step. This time, the Hunter couldn't keep a choked chuckled from escaping, but it only seemed to spur the small creature on, and he loaded out of the door.

"No, wait, Bendy!"

Shit. He should have kept his mouth shut.

He just about managed to catch the tail end of the small creature as he bounded around a corner once he got outside, and quickly charged after him, only to find himself dodging a heavy, hand-made hammer aimed at his crotch (or what surely would have been head height for Bendy). The Ink Demon himself had already charged past the leaking, lumbering beasts and was heading for what looked to be some sort of elevator tower.

"Bendy!" Henry called, twisting past the beasts and dashing after his supposed charge. The beasts roared after him as the small Ink Demon scaled the stone building, digging his clawed fingers and hoof-like feet into the crumbling mortar. The Hunter barely reached the base of the tower when the familiar forked tail disappeared over it. "Wait!"

Another roar from the pursuing creatures made him falter, and he took refuge within, closing the doors on the troll-like things as he looked frantically about in the hopes of finding an escape.

Luck was shining on him it seemed; the lift was already waiting for him, and he all but cried out in relief as he boarded it, the weight of his body activating the platform's function. He rose at an agonisingly sedated pace, though he used the time to pull himself into some reasonable sense of order, tidying his clothes so they wouldn't run the risk of catching him mid-swing, or tripping him as he ran. He could hear the path of carnage Bendy was creating quite clearly; shouts and cries of the local mob floating down to him, and only growing louder as he ascended.

When at last he reached the top of the tower, he stepped out only to blink in alarm at the giant ball of fire that rolled past, and could only stare for several long seconds at the screaming, blazing forms of what had once been men as they flailed and panicked, some going so far as to jump over the walls of the bridge to end their plight. It was horrifying, but the Hunter had barely enough time for it to register, as those unaffected by the blaze had begun to notice him.

"It's a Hunter!"

"A Hunter!"

"Kill the Hunter!"

"Well, shit."

Shots were fired, blood spilled, and a path was carved across the bridge, high above the roads he had travelled before where civilians were running about the burning corpses of their fellows. The Hunter had caught a glimpse of Bendy's tail once again as he'd disappeared past some of those lanky creatures from the sewers and into what looked to be a graveyard, but he was still too far, and he lost sight of him in the skirmish.

"Bendy!"

"'E knows the Demon!"

Fuck, why won't they just die? Maybe if he made a run for it...

" _HENRY!_ "

Everything froze, all eyes flying to the graveyard, towards the cry. It gave Henry the opening he needed, but panic and worry had been injected into his veins, making every muscle tense as he sprinted past the long reach of the lanky beings and a large, dripping troll, until he finally made it up the stairs. As soon as he set foot on the dead ground of the graves, the gates creaked to a close behind him, and he grasped his axe in hand,

There was a figure, tall and hunched, at the far end of the clearing, an axe head ready for a swing. A great, familiar, axe,

"... Gascoigne?"


	10. Father Gascoigne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry meets an old friend.

The man paused in his swing, standing a little straighter, before letting the axe fall. Henry heard a yelp and then the scurrying of small feet before Bendy jumped out from the area the axe had landed and ran over to Henry as soon as he noticed him, hiding behind Henry's form and clutching at his chest. His cheeks were stained with black tears.

"Bendy, are you alright?" he asked quickly, not taking his eyes from the slowly turning form of his colleague.

" _I-I'll be okay,_ " the Ink Demon replied with a sniff, his voice quivering.

Before Henry could say another word, the other Hunter growled, bringing silence to the graveyard. "The Hand of Mercy," he muttered, hefting his axe and turning his head to reveal white hair and eyes covered with thickly layered bandages. "Beasts all over the shop..." He turned his head slightly, giving the impression that he was looking past Henry at the small, shivering shape behind him. "And here you are, shamelessly defending the main cause for all of this." The man gritted his teeth at them, sending a chill down Henry's spine. "This dark plague had already corrupted your mind,  _Mercy_. You'll be one of them... sooner or later."

 "Gascoigne-" Henry started, reaching towards him with his free hand, but he was too far gone, already drawing his modified pistol, ready to shoot. He reacted, reaching back for Bendy and jumping behind a tombstone for cover as the shot fired and spread over the area they had just been standing. "I don't want to fight you, Gascoigne!"

He received no reply, only the sound of footsteps and heavy breathing approaching. They had to move; the man was clearly blood drunk. Perhaps, if they were lucky, they'd be able to escape, but Henry knew the likelihood of such a thing was slim. Father Gascoigne was a much more experience Hunter than he, and would only follow, constantly dogging their steps and never giving them a moment of peace.

Before the footsteps came to close, Henry flung himself (and Bendy) from the stone, pushing the Demon behind him as he drew his own gun. "You must see sense!" he exclaimed, even as he blocked a swing from the man. "Look at what you're doing!"

Gascoigne roared and swung again, this time leaving his side open, and Henry took the chance. The blade of his axe sliced through leather and tissue, leaving a noticeable wound in his ribs. The man groaned in pain, but refused to be slowed, swinging the butt of his pistol up into Henry's face, making his nose crunch painfully.

" _Henry!_ " Bendy cried, making to step forwards, but Henry held his arm out, stalling him as he stumbled back.

"Gascoigne, stop!" he exclaimed, but was only pushed further back with another of his swings, sparks flying from the cobbles as the 'priest's' blade scraped against them. "Bendy, run!"

" _But-!_ "

"Now!"

The Demon scurried off, , leaving Henry room to move as he liked, and he brought his own axe in an up-swing to try and catch the other off-guard. It didn't work.

Gascoigne caught the swing with his pistol, swinging it out the way and leaving Henry unbalanced and open to the cut he brought to Henry's chest, making him stumble backwards with a gasp.

" _Henry!_ "

"Stay back!"

Another swing, but this time Henry managed to dodge, jumping to the side, only for Gascoigne to aim his gun once more, and he dove for cover behind another tombstone. The blast shoot the stone, but didn't penetrate, and Henry immediately swung around, pistol aimed straight and true, and fired.

Gascoigne stumbled back, right shoulder more so than the rest, and Henry immediately took it as his chance to charge, swinging at the other and repaying the wound that had been inflicted upon him. "Why?!" he demanded, landing a kick to the man's chest and sending him back, away from Bendy. "Why are you doing this?!"

He only received a demented laugh in reply. "Oh, what's that smell?" he asked, taking a deep breath through his nose and grinning. "The sweet blood. Oh, it sings to me. It's enough to make a man sick." He swung at Henry again as he laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Henry could only grunt as he parried the blows, swinging them away from him. "We used to fight together!" he exclaimed, trying to reach the man through his haze, but it was no use; the blood lust was thick in his mind now, and he was stuck quick.

It was during one of the parries, a moment which brought back memories of the spars they had once held with one another, that Henry swung without thinking, a blow aimed with an expectancy of a parry. But the parry never came, and the axe dug deep into Gascoigne's side. The once-preacher coughed, blood landing on the cobble-stones, and he pulled himself off and away from Henry's axe before he could say a word.

"Mercy," the man wheezed through a vicious grin, and crumpled in on himself.

At first, Henry thought he had struck a killing blow, and started to step forwards, but the slumped shape made an abominable cry, almost like the crows from the sewers, and he stumbled away with a gasp.

The ground around the figure seemed to melt and drip, growing dark and swarming Gascoigne's body, consuming him completely. Henry made to step closer, but the shape seemed to explode with a shriek, pushing him back into a grave marker. Blinking the spots from his eyes, Henry gasped at the form he saw before him.

"What happened to you?"

Before him, there was no longer a man - one whom Henry had spent countless hours training, hunting and fighting with - but a beast, fingers long and clawed, body more powerful but blackened with the poison he had accused Henry of being infected with, face twisted into something half man, half wolf, an almost snout stretching out with a mouth full of sharp fangs. This wasn't Father Gascoigne, it was a monster.

The beast could no longer hold his weapons, but that didn't make him any less deadly; he - _it_ \- was faster now, and it's reach longer, and Henry only managed to block it's first swing before it's second caught him unaware, and he was all but thrown across the graveyard, landing heavily on a clearing with yet more tears through him flesh. His gun was lost, but he still clutched at his axe, and forced himself to his feet, extending the handle to it's full length as he waited for the monster to charge.

It seemed all of Gascoigne's patience had vanished along with his humanity when he'd transformed, as he charged directly at Henry, only to run into the sharp end of his axe. The beast roared in outrage and pain, but took no time to recover and pounced, pushing Henry to the ground once again, it's snarling mouth bare inches from Henry's face. He struggled against the tight, cutting grip on his shoulders, but couldn't buck the beast from him. However, he didn't need to.

Gascoigne roared in Henry's face, but ended up pushing himself up and off of him, turning instead to reveal his own axe buried in his back... and Bendy stood defiantly behind him.

" _You stay away from Henry,_ " the little Ink Demon warned, hands curled in tight shaking fists at his side.

Gascoigne screeched at him, but didn't take another step before Henry's weapon met it's mark, and it choked on it's own blood before collapsing to the floor and melting into the cobble-stones, much like the creature from the bridge.

It was over. Gascoigne was gone and... and...

Henry's knees hit the ground, his eyes drooping as the adrenalin from the fight faded from his veins.

" _Henry!_ "

Before he could completely collapse to the floor, Bendy caught him, holding him up and slapping his face lightly to keep him awake.

"We did it," he said with a slight smile.

" _Yeah,_ " Bendy agreed worriedly. " _Yeah we did. Now, ya gotta stay awake old man. This ain't no time fer a nap!_ "

"Five minutes," Henry sighed, eyes falling shut completely as the world drained away.

" _No. No no, Henry! HENRY!_ "


	11. Oedon's Chapel Dweller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery and an unpleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much once again for all the support you've been giving me! It's amazing, and I love you all for it!

Henry woke to the sound of humming - a female voice, if he was hearing correctly - something cool and wet on his brow, and something warm and itchy over his chest and legs. It was an incredibly familiar sensation, which wasn't altogether comforting. The only times he'd felt like he'd been tucked into bed to recover from a flu were when he was a child, and he  _was_ suffering from some sort of illness, or, more recently, he'd collapsed and some kind soul had taken him in. Considering where he was, he wasn't sure if it was kindness or something else that had brought him... wherever he was.

It smelled like a church, or some other sort of Holy place, incense wafting into his lungs every time he took a breath, and there was a soft candle-light he was aware of through his lids. And then there was that woman, humming what sounded like a lullaby as they moved about the large, (echoing) room, the brush of her dress against the stone a surprisingly welcomed sound.

Suddenly, the sound stopped, and the figure approached, and he could hear her dress folding as she knelt down beside him.

"You're safe here," she said, her fingers, running through his hair before removing the cool, wet thing - a cloth no doubt - from his brow.

"Am I?" he asked, slowly opening his eyes to look up at her.

The woman was slender, almost brittle in the way of looks, wearing both a cloak and a wimple head scarf over long, black hair, and what looked like an odd double pointed cap underneath, held down with what looked like some sort of halo crown or hair pin (he wasn't entirely sure). Her eyes, much as Gascoigne's had been, were covered by bandages, as were her hands, stained black from what Henry could only assume was blood.

"Who are you?" he demanded, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Where's Bendy?"

The woman sighed, pressing a hand to his chest - which he now realised was bare save for the bandaging wrapped around him. "Lie still," she told him, snd tried to touch his hair again, only for him to draw away. Instead, she settled her hands in her lap and smiled softly at him. "My name is Alice. You are currently in Oedon's Chapel, recovering from your wounds."

Henry glared at her, waiting for a further answer, but he received none. He tried pushing himself up again, this time waving off 'Alice's' hand and looked around. There were great swathes of hanging fabric, covering the ceiling, and an unlit chandelier. There seemed to be dozens of pots of intense burning about the place, surrounding the area he had been lain in, but not a single sign of Bendy anywhere.

"Where is he?"

Alice sighed again. "The incense wards off the beasts," she explained. "It took...  _him_ much effort to bring you here."

Henry blinked. "He brought me here?"

She bowed her head in a half nod. "I would suggest you lie back down, Henry. I would not wish for all my work to be undone."

Looking down at himself again, he carefully complied, though he still worried about his charge. "Where-?"

"He is waiting outside," she almost snapped, but bit her lower lip and took a deep breath to calm herself. "He will want to know that you are awake."

He nodded. "He's alright, isn't he?"

If he'd been able to see her eyes, Henry was sure he would have seen confusion in the woman's face. "Why do you care about him?"

"... Because he's my friend."

She remained silent for several long moments, then rose to her feet. "The demon is fine," she said, and turned towards the door, leaving Henry to watch after her. When the door opened and closed behind her, he fell back against the make-shift pillow and stared up at the covered ceiling. He still didn't trust her; those bandages around her eyes... they reminded him too much of Gascoigne and the towns-people; everyone was wearing them, and he didn't know why. It made him feel uncomfortable, and his nakedness, vulnerable.

Looking around, he was pleased to find his axe resting against one of the great clay jars (though there was no sign of his pistol), and he pulled himself over to it, grasping the handle with a sigh. However, relaxing against the jar, he found that the pain he'd been bracing himself for had never struck. There had been no shocks, no stretching, no tearing or light-headedness. No stabs or flashes or anything! Even his shoulders, which he  _definitely_ remembered being torn into, hadn't even twinged at their use.

How long had he been out?

Before he could check on the bandaged wounds though, Alice was returning, only to pause and shake her head at him when she noticed where he was. "I told you not to move."

"I felt naked," he replied, his fingers curling around the leather-bound wood of the handle. "How long have I been here?"

"Almost ten hours," she replied, stopping before she reached him, only to stoop to pick up what had once been his waistcoat, and settled on the ground opposite him, pulling a needle and thread from where they had been attached to the fabric to continue sewing.

Henry frowned at her in confusion, and then at the window, where the moon continued to cast a dull light through the glass. "It would be morning if that were true."

Alice shook her head. "The nights are long in Yharnam," she said. "Sometimes they last for days."

"... That doesn't actually make any sense."

"I'm afraid not much does in this city."

The Hunter couldn't help but hum in agreement. "Including this miraculous healing of yours?" He waved at his body, at the bandages wrapped over almost every exposed inch, though not including his nose, which he could have sworn had been broken,

She shrugged. "It is a gift," she explained, tying a knot in the tread and cutting it with a small knife she had hidden away in a pocket. "One I share with the people. I tend to them as much as I can, and keep the... filth, from tainting this holy ground."

"You mean Bendy."

She refused to reply.

"... I need to go."

"You need to rest," she retorted. "You are not yet recovered."

"I'm recovered enough." He started to pull at the bandages, dislodging the knot, causing Alice to jump up and stride towards him.

"No, wait!"

Too late.

"... What did you do to me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahahahahaha! Another cliffhanger! Hope you guys enjoyed!


	12. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've cursed me!"
> 
> "I saved you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this makes the cliffhanger worth it!

His skin was smooth and soft to the touch, whole and new, in the places it had once been rent apart, almost like that of a newborn's. It had healed almost  _too_ perfectly, had it not been for the black stain the wounds had been replaced by, inky lines like tattoos of battle across his body. Only, the edges were almost mist-like in appearance, and rapidly decreasing in size; another half an hour and Henry was sure there would be no proof the marks had ever existed in the first place.

"You've poisoned me," he whispered, fingers brushing over the fading marks in shock and growing disgust.

"No!" The woman attempted to reach for him, but he pulled away, holding the axe between them. "I have only  _healed_ you! The wounds you sustained would have killed you had I not intervened."

"You've cursed me!"

"I  _saved_ you!"

"You've doomed me to become like the rest of them," Henry growled. "Gascoigne was right; I'll be one of them sooner or later. You've made that a certainty now."

"No, I've kept you from falling into that plight!" Alice exclaimed, shifting closer - he grasped tighter at his axe. "Without my help you would either have fallen into death or been consumed by the plague!"

If he'd died he would have ended up at that strange Hunter's Dream again, and this never would have been a problem.

Henry gritted his teeth and glared at her. "What did you do?"

Alice continued to look at him (he assumed) for several long moments, arm outstretched, before sighing and letting it fall back into her lap. "I have... a gift. Many would not see it as such, such as yourself, but I can use the ink polluting this city to heal. It is why I cover the wounds with bandages until my gift has done it's work. Had I not hidden it, then the people would have reacted much the same as you, and burned me as a witch, or a monster."

"I'm not convinced you aren't."

She smiled softly at him, ducking her head. "I do good; there are many who live today who would not have been had I not interfered."

The Hunter scoffed. The only people he had seen so far had been dripping with ink and half-mad, nothing like what she was trying to explain.

"Just because you haven't seen my work does not mean that it does not exist," Alice scowled, nearly disappointed. He couldn't bring himself to care what she thought of him.

"I'm not exactly filled with faith right now, sister," he growled. "Take it out."

She sighed. "I can't."

"I said take it out."

"It's a part of you now. It has become ingrained in you, a part of who you are much as your very bones are."

He snorted, twisting the axe in his hands. "Fine. I'll carve it out myself."

" ** _No!_** "

The axe was pulled from his hands before he'd had a chance to even touch his skin, Alice's strength deceptively more than Henry would have expected from a woman of her size. However, it was her tone of voice that caught him off guard. It seemed to have taken on a familiar, dark tone, one he'd associated only with Bendy before this moment, and there was an almost unhinged look to her eye that sent Henry's instincts haywire.

" **I will _not_ let you die!** "

He held up his hands, trying to calm the woman down as he tried not to stare at the growing dark patches in the bandages about her eyes and hands. "Alright," he placated. "I won't touch them." The woman, now clutching his axe to her chest, continued to regard him with caution and wariness, so Henry sighed and lowered his hands. "I swear to you that I will leave your... witchcraft be."

The scowl only appeared to deepen, but she sighed, rising to her feet and smoothing her dress down as she continued to clutch at the axe. "I see there is no convincing you without proof," she said after several calming breaths, and turned towards the door. "You may follow me when you are ready. Your...  _friend_ and I will be awaiting your arrival outside."

With one more bush of her skirts, Alice walked swiftly towards the doors, and slipped outside, leaving Henry to stew in the strange incense filled chapel, defenceless, and alone.


	13. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry and Bendy are reunited once more.

Henry spent some time contemplating what was happening to him -what  _had_ happened to him - and trying to decide whether he wanted to attempt scratching the disease out of him with his nails. Unfortunately, logic caught up with him, firmly informing him that Alice was undoubtedly correct; it was already in him now, a part of him, and every moment he wasted thinking about it just meant it would be that much more impossible to be rid of it. He had been so careful not to use the tainted blood vials, not to come in contact with the dreaded substance, and yet, through no fault of his own, he was infected.

Heaving a great sigh, the Hunter pushed such thoughts from his mind and gathered up his clothes. He noticed that the holes and tears in his waistcoat had been sewn shut with lines of tight and neat stitches, and as much of the blood possible scrubbed from the fabric of it and his coat. His shirt, on the other hand, had been replaced entirely,, and it was soft and warm against his skin, nicely covering the marks with it's long sleeves and thick wool. However, he didn't think he'd ever seen anything quite so clean, almost like the leaded white paint he once used as an artist. As wonderful as it felt, it seemed unnatural. He would be only too glad to dirty this one up.

Once he'd pulled his gloves and hat back on, he made his way over to the door, wrapping his scarf about his neck and feeling positively naked without his axe and pistol. As he approached the great flats of wood, he began to hear a surprisingly comforting voice from beyond.

" _\- you did t' him! Is he alright' or not?!_ "

"You will find out soon enough."

Henry frowned at Alice's snappish tone. Though he was aware that she didn't hold the greatest of respect for Bendy, and probably even hated him (as most of the citizens of this place seemed to do), he hadn't thought she would go so far as to withhold information from him. Did she not understand that it was only going to make him more angry?

" _And why d'ya have 'is axe?_ "

"I don't see how that's any of your-"

Henry pushed his way out of the building, cutting her off when his boots hit the stone floor. He was in another, much larger, church, bringing his attention to the fact that he must have been in the chapel section, and there were many more jars of burning incense lining the walls. The overall layout, though much larger than where he'd been staying, was more or less the same, and Henry looked up the aisle to find Alice and Bendy stood a little distance into a little courtyard just outside.

There were figures dressed in light coloured clothes, and masks that, at a glance, bore the same shade of white as his shirt, giving them an eery look. He didn't trust them for one second, and neither did Bendy.

" _Henry!_ " the little Ink Demon cried, turning from where he'd been speaking to Alice and revealing Henry's pistol. He didn't make a move to get inside though, and the Hunter was reminded of what his supposed healer had said about the incense. Bendy  _was_ a beast in some senses, but Henry was beginning to lose sight of that.

"Hey punk," he said with a smile, walking out of the building to meet him. He was still wearing the doll clothes it seemed, so maybe he didn't mind them so much after all (though they looked much more bedraggled and filthy now).

" _Ya really are a crazy old man,_ " he said in reply, holding out the pistol which Henry took eagerly. " _Thought I'd lost ya fer a minute there! Wouldn't that 'ave been annoying?_ "

"Would have thought you'd be glad to be rid of me," he joked, looking his pistol over and replacing the spent bullets before sliding it into his holster. The weight of it at his side brought a feeling of safety, and his shoulders relaxed minutely before he looked over at Alice. "I'll have my axe back now."

She reguarded him with an air of wariness, fingers twitching on the axe's handle as her mouth twisted into a look of disgust and scorn. "Why should I give it to you?" she asked. "You had every intention of carving yourself to ribbons before."

Henry scowled at her as Bendy blinked up at her in disbelief. "You were right," he said through gritted teeth. "There's nothing I can do about it now, no matter what I try."

She continued to examine him for several long moments, her hidden eyes somehow able to make him want to shiver, even when he couldn't see them behind the darkened bandages, before slowly holding the axe out to him again. However, before he could take it, she pulled back again, causing Bendy to hiss at her. "You must promise me you will not harm yourself with this blade. You must swear this to me."

Henry almost rolled his eyes, but managed to hold it back. "I swear," he told her. "I have no intention of carving myself up."

Alice gritted her teeth, uncertain, before holding the weapon out once again. The Hunter all but snatched it from her fingers, checking the edge of the blade before nodding at her. She nodded in return, and turned back into the church. "You are welcome to return, Hunter," she said as she stepped away. "The path onwards is clear, should you wish to use it. The Church Servants will not bother you, should you not bother them." She turned back to them briefly, with a sad smile. "I am sorry that you have not found my help to your liking."

The Hunter just gritted his teeth together in reply, and she took his silence as answer enough. With one last nod, she continued further into the church.

"Safe journey, Hunter."


	14. Looking Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! It's been... busy, these past months. But I should be publishing more chapters soon!

" _Wha'd'ya mean 'she infected ya'?_ "

Henry sighed, shifting a little on the bench as he stared out over Yharnam. They'd walked a bit of a distance from the chapel, following the road to an open area overlooking the region of the city they had already traversed. He could see the lumbering figures of the citizens through the mist and fumes, hear their groans as whispers on the wind, and yet he couldn't feel that sense of accomplishment he should have. Getting to this had come at a heavy price - one paid in the lives of his once friends and neighbours - and he could only look at this place with a cold sense of guilt.

"It's inside me now Bendy," he replied, clenching his gloved hand. "The tainted blood; she put it inside me, to heal me. But it will do more harm than good in the end."

Bendy frowned up at him, confused, and almost scared, by his answer. " _What'll it do?_ " he asked quietly. " _It... can't be_ that _bad... can it?_ "

Henry ducked his head, closing his eyes as he let the tormented sounds flow over him. To think, that could be him one day.

" _Henry?_ "

 "I don't know, Bendy," the Hunter muttered. "I really don't know."

 The Ink Demon remained silent for several long moments after that, giving Henry the time to wallow in self pity for just a little while longer, but then he pushed himself off of the bench and, straightening his clothes - the clothes he had so hated before - he turned to the Hunter with a grin and said " _Well then there's no point moping about it. We've got t' get t' Joey's, right? So let's get going!_ "

Henry blinked at him, surprised by his sudden chipper attitude, only to smile in the end. "Yeah," he agreed, rising from his seat. "We can't give up now. Just have to keep moving."

" _That's right! We'll get there soon, just you see._ "

The Hunter nodded and, picking up his axe from where he'd set it against the seats, nodded back to the way they'd come. "To Old Yharnam?"

Bendy nodded, jumping over the bench to lead the way with an infectious grin. " _Y' know, it's gotten pretty dangerous down there since I first saw it._ "

"Oh?"

" _Yeah; this old man - kinda like you - he set himself up on one of the rooftops with this massive gun, and 'e shoots anyone who tries t' hurt any o' the beasts round there._ "

Henry frowned. "Another Hunter?"

" _I think so._ "

The Hunter hummed in discontent. It seemed this city was turning a lot of people from their beliefs, distorting their minds much like the tainted, inky virus was contorting their bodies. Would he be the same if he stayed here too long? "Well, I suppose it's high time we meet him, don't you think?"

" _It'll be better than that Alice gal._ "

Henry smirked, and started heading to the way down. "That it will be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and Happy New Year!


	15. Hunters Not Wanted Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry and Bendy enter Old Yharnam.

"They sealed it off?"

" _Yeah,_ " Bendy replied, looking back at the wolf-like creature's corpse with an odd look in his eye. Henry wasn't going to mention it though, because he was avoiding the devil's circle they'd found in the centre of the room, and it would just bring up a lot of questions neither of them wanted to answer. " _I usually go a different way but... you won't really fit._ "

"Fit?" the Hunter smirked, looking down at him.

The Ink Demon grinned up at him. " _Oh yeah. You're too big, old man... Unless you want to go crawling down the sides of buildings and through more sewers that is._ "

 "Uh, no, thank you," Henry replied, returning his attention to the door before him and the notice plastered across it. "One giant rampaging pig is enough for me."

Bendy chuckled and leaned against the doors, being painfully obvious in his avoidance of the wolf-creature's body as he looked up at his companion. " _Ya gonna open it?"_ " he asked, folding his arms over his tattered shirt.

The Hunter nodded in a non-committal manner, still looking at the notice. Long abandoned... Hunters not wanted... What would stepping through these doors do? It sounded like they were dealing with the problem themselves, or that there wasn't a problem at all. And when it says 'abandoned', what does that mean? Abandoned by who exactly? There was still a Hunter in there apparently, but if they weren't being attacked, then did that mean they were still a Hunter? Had they succumbed to the Ink Blood as Gascoigne had? He wasn't sure he wanted to know, and yet this was the only way forwards. With a great sigh, Henry placed his hands on either side of the note, and pushed.

 The doors were heavy - heavier than he'd expected - and as he pushed them against the ground, and the light from the outdoors spilled into the room, a small cloud of dust rose from the ground. It was as he took his first breath of what was supposed to be fresh air, however, that he realised it wasn't dust, or mud, but ash. The sky was just as red as it had been on the balcony above, and the buildings and landscape just as dark and unalluring, but here there was a fire burning - no  _fires_ \- in the courtyard he stepped into, and in those fires were figures, creatures, crucified for their deformities and consumed by their fiery graves. Smoke and ash hung in the air as pollen would in spring, and crooked stone figures in concealing robes reached for the sky in unanswered prayer.

"What happened to this place?"

" _The Church,_ " Bendy replied, stepping past him. " _Thought cleansing by fire would work. It didn't._ "

"But, it's still burning," Henry muttered, moving down the stone steps, only to stop at the bottom when he heard a voice cry out, and he looked around trying to find the source.

"You there, Hunter. Didn't you see the warning?" it asked - a man at least, but still he couldn't find the speaker, the sound echoing too much to be of much help. "Turn back at once. Old Yharnam, burned and abandoned by men, is now home only to beasts. They are of no harm to those above. Turn back, or the Hunter will face the Hunt."

Henry waited for several seconds after the voice had finally faded, and turned to find Bendy pointing towards a square looking tower with a great, circular glass window in the side. Squinting over at it, the Hunter could just about make out a figure on the roof, but that was all. "That's the Hunter?"

The Ink Demon nodded. " _He's bin here a while. Doesn't like strangers much._ "

"I gathered that," Henry replied. "There isn't an easy route, is there?"

Bendy just gave him a look.

"Thought not." Looking around at the ruined area, he just gave Bendy a wave. "Lead the way then."

The small beast smirked up at him, a look that only made Henry dread what he was supposed to be expect, and headed towards a dilapidated and broken stone bridge. Of course, when they were half way across it, a beast started stalking towards them, a look of hatred and blood-lust in it's eyes.

"Oh great," he muttered, hefting his axe. "I don't want to do this you know."

The beast growled at him, and made ready to charge.


	16. The Burning City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first step is not always the easiest... especially when you're being attacked by things with claws and some old guy with a machine gun.

Suddenly, the beast's eyes grew wide with fear, and it whined, stepping back and retreating after having stalked forwards a few steps. Henry was confounded by this odd behaviour... until Bendy stepped past him, waving a flaming torch at the cowering creature. The Hunter watched with confusion and surprise as the small Ink Demon pushed the beast back further with each swing of his torch, and soon collected his own. Together, they drove not just one, but three of the beasts away, sending them running off to god knew where, and leaving the two of them alone again.

"... How did you know they were-?"

" _Scared of fire?_ " Bendy shrugged and pointed at one of the nearby pyres. " _The Hunters who come through here like to have a bit of a roasting with their kind._ "

Following his direction, Henry winced when he noticed the similarities between the burning wretches and the beasts that had started to charge at him. They were clearly only trying to defend themselves if this was what they've known of Hunters. Attack first before they attack you.

" _There's others here who ain't afraid,_ " Bendy continued, leading him on. " _They cover their eyes, but they can still smell ya._ "

 "Great," the Huntermuttered, but followed on behind him.

The next several minutes involved more jumping from heights than Henry would have liked, and he could feel each landing in his knees, but every time they came across a stairway, it was either completely broken or swarming with beasts, and the both of them had decided that they would rather avoid any confrontations. By the time they reached the level below where they had first entered, Bendy was growing nervous, which in turn sent the Hunter on high alert.

"What is it?"

The small creature was looking around and up at the tower in trepidation, and Henry followed his gaze to find himself looking at the sight of a man in battered, stained Hunter's clothes, leaning against what looked like some sort of stationary gun turret. Henry swallowed. Why wasn't he-?

" _Move!_ "

Henry rolled before he could even think, narrowly missing the swing of a beast's claws, and he frantically swung his torch to try and frighten them off, only to find that their face had been covered. This error kept him from leaving the beast's range,and the Hunter cried out when it sliced at his arm, and he rolled away before it could try again. However, the muscles in his right arm spasmed, and he dropped his torch. Had it not been for Bendy dragging him away, he wasn't sure he would have made it any further into Yharnam.

" _C'mon old man!_ " the Ink Demon cried, leading him further and deeper into the old city's depths. " _Do ya want t' die?!_ "

The Hunter didn't answer, instead focusing on fighting a sudden onslaught of debilitating weakness, and he had to force himself to continue on. What was this? Wounds couldn't be infected this fast, could they? Or was it some after affect of the Priestess's healing? And then came a whirring mechanical sound, followed by a dreadfully familiar pop and whizzing sound, and Henry pulled Bendy behind a set of statues as the first of the bullets began to rain down on them from above.

"Shit," he muttered, watching as the beasts continued to approach, waiting at the edge of the bombardment. When the bullet storm finally came to a stop, the Hunter pushed himself into a run, hauling Bendy into his arms before the creature escaped and climbed onto his shoulders instead, tail curling around his arm to keep him stable. "Where am I going?"

" _That way!_ " Bendy exclaimed, pointing through yet more beasts with his torch.

"Of course I am," the Hunter growled,and sought a way around them. It seemed luck had abandoned them though, much as everything else had, as the whirring of the machine gun started up again, and he was forced to find shelter as another wave pinned them down. He wasn't quite fast enough to keep a bullet from cutting across his cheek though, and he felt the hot touch of his blood before standing behind what had once been a part of a building. "There wasn't any other way I could have gone?"

" _Not one as easy as this one,_ " Bendy replied, curling close around Henry's head.

"Oh, this is easy is it?"

" _Compared t' the others? Yeah._ "

The Hunter winced, not wanting to think about what that meant for the other routes. Instead he waited for the bombardment to end. As the bullets pelted the stone behind him, he felt his strength recover somewhat, and he used it to ready himself for another sprint towards safety.

The beasts - cloaked and uncloaked - had started to move to surround them, but the Hunter used the chance he'd been given to run between them and hurried down the stairs he'd been directed to. He hoped he would find somewhere safe for a moment of respite somewhere soon, but he would be sorely disappointed.


	17. Powder Keg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation turns dire, but some unexpected help is at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's uh... been a while? Sorry guys, life was happening, but then I was inspired to continue by some of the-vampire-inside-me's the other day, and some of the reviews you guys left were just so amazing...  
> Anyways, I give you a long awaited chapter!

Henry didn't want to know what kind of hell the other routes onwards held if his chaos was considered 'easy'. Creatures, tormented and afraid, we're waiting for them, climbing out of shattered windows, only to be sent screaming when a dark figure lunged out from around a corner.

"Shit." Another hunter. At first the man seemed to only be after the beasts, but it soon became clear that this was not the case. Henry jumped back to avoid a swing of the hunter's blade, Bendy at his back as he kept the beasts at bay - those who dared to approach the two hunters that is - though he constantly shot worried looks over his shoulder.

" _It ain't usually this bad,_ " he said, only to bat a creature on the arm, sending it running.

"Oh that's good," Henry drawled, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. The new hunter yelled incoherently as he swung forwards again, and Henry had to bring his axe up to block what would have been a crippling blow. "I don't want to have to do this again." Gascoigne was still too fresh a wound, adding yet more hunter deaths to his count would be sickening.

Another swing forced him to drive forwards, past the crazed hunter and away from the Ink Demon. He didn't want to leave him semi-defenceless, but the hunter was focused, determined, and he forced Henry back one step at a time.

" _Henry!_ " Bendy cried, whacking the hunter on his back with the torch.

"No!"

But it was too late; the tormented man snarled and spun, bringing his blade in a low arc. It caught the little Ink Demon in his side.

"BENDY!"

Any thought of future guilt was flung from Henry's mind as his charge stumbled, torch falling to the floor as he grasped at the weeping wound. The hunter readied a finishing blow, weapon held high, but it never fell.

Henry tackled the man, bringing his axe around him and using the handle to hold him back. The hunter bucked and growled, ramming into walls and the wooden structure of the stairs. When Henry's spine hit a protruding knob of wood, he was forced to release him. During the few seconds of searing agony that shot through Henry's body, he took vague notice of the strange lack if beasts as Bendy struggled to stand. The hunter, meanwhile, had caught the back of Henry's leg with his foot.

The air burst from his lungs, but it wasn't the first time it had happened in his long career, and he caught the hunter's blade with the axe's handle before it could cleave his head open. He struggles against the man's weight, pushing back with all his might. But then the _was_ no weight, and Henry's ears rang at the echoes of a gunshot. The hunter's body fell to the ground, limp and lifeless, and Henry drew his pistol.

He found himself staring down the barrel of a long Rifle Spear, the bayonet not more than a few inches from his eye as he aimed his pistol up at the wielder. He did not recognise him, but the clothes he wore and the weapons he used could only have belonged to a Powder Keg; a so called heretic hunter.

The Powder Keg examined him with wary eyes framed by wrinkled skin, only for his gaze to flicker away, past Henry to what he assumed must have been Bendy, still clutching at his bleeding side.

"You are a friend to this beast?" they asked, his voice edge with shock. "You protect them?"

" _Who ya callin' a beast... ya old prune?_ " It seemed, even injured, the Ink Demon refused to be cowed.

The 'old prune' hummed, eyes falling back to Henry's as he inclined his head. "That one of my own could not see..." he muttered and brought the rifle to rest over his shoulder. "Tend to him. I will be at my post when you are ready to talk."

As the Powder Keg left, Henry kept his pistol focused on the man's figure until he was certain that this wasn't a bluff. Once the older man was gone, he all but threw his weapons in his belt as he headed to Bendy's side.

" _Henry-_ "

"Let me see," the Hunter insisted, kneeling before his friend. For a moment, Bendy just looked up at him, his face displaying annoyance, and lingering pain, but with a little time he huffed and drew his hand away. The right side of his shirt hand been stained black from the middle of his ribs down, and it was still oozing from the wound below.

" _It's fine,_ " Bendy moaned, but he allowed Henry to help pull the stained fabric off. " _I'm fine._ "

"You're still bleeding," Henry said, using the small shirt to mop up the area around the gash, noticing a few almost white bits between, "and I can see your ribs." It wasn't clear through the dark mess, but he was pretty sure that's what the grey masses were.

" _I_ will _be fine then,_ " the Ink Demon clarified, looking over his shoulder. " _I don't want t' be a nag, but they're comin' back._ "

Looking up, Henry took note of the beasts were creeping closer again, though with great caution. He'd had no intention of following the Powder Keg, but as far as he could see, it was the safest route, and with Bendy in the state he was...

" _Did 'e 'ave any blood vials?_ " Bendy asked, drawing him out of his planning. " _I'll be good as new if ya get me one of them._ "

Henry hesitated only a moment before leaving the small creature's side, patting the dead hunter's pockets until he found two of said vials. He hated these, the disease they held, but he knew Bendy was all but made of it, and he was already infected. "Here."

Bendy took it and swallowed the contents in one swift gulp. At first there was no outward sign that the dark elixir was doing anything, but then the small creature sighed, and Henry watched, astounded, as his flesh knitted itself back together before his eyes.

" _Let's go,_ " Bendy said, heading past him to take the stairs. " _The prune's annoyin', but he ain't tryin' t' kill us right now. An' keep them vials. We'll need e'm._ "

Looking back at the approaching beasts, the Hunter agreed and dropped the vials in his pocket. "Let's see what this Powder Keg wants."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked it! I may be a bit slow on the updates, but I know I'll enjoy writing this. I look forward to writing more!


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